I wasn't fit to be spoken to," she thought; "but his wife did. I'm
afraid people won't take me when they know."

The April sunshine poured in at the window; the grass was becoming
green; a robin alighted on a tree nearby and poured out a jubilant
song. For a few moments hope, that had been almost dead in her heart,
revived. As she looked gratefully at the bird, thanking it in her
heart for the song, it darted upon a string hanging on an adjacent
spray and bore it to a crotch between two boughs. Then Alida saw it
was building a nest. Her woman's heart gave way. "Oh," she moaned, "I
shall never have a home again! No place shared by one who cares for
me. To work, and to be tolerated for the sake of my work, is all
that's left."

Chapter XIV.

A Pitched Battle

It was an odd household under Holcroft's roof on the evening of the
Sunday we have described. The farmer, in a sense, had "taken
sanctuary" in his own room, that he might escape the maneuvering wiles
of his tormenting housekeeper. If she would content herself with
general topics he would try to endure her foolish, high-flown talk
until the three months expired; but that she should speedily and openly
take the initiative in matrimonial designs was proof of such an
unbalanced mind that he was filled with nervous dread. "Hanged if one
can tell what such a silly, hairbrained woman will do next!" he
thought, as he brooded by the fire. "Sunday or no Sunday, I feel as if
I'd like to take my horsewhip and give Lemuel Weeks a piece of my mind."

Such musings did not promise well for Mrs. Mumpson, scheming in the
parlor below; but, as we have seen, she had the faculty of arranging
all future events to her mind. That matters had not turned out in the
past as she had expected, counted for nothing. She was one who could
not be taught, even by experience. The most insignificant thing in
Holcroft's dwelling had not escaped her scrutiny and pretty accurate
guess as to value, yet she could not see or understand the intolerable
disgust and irritation which her ridiculous conduct excited. In a weak
mind egotism and selfishness, beyond a certain point, pass into
practical insanity. All sense of delicacy, of the fitness of things,
is lost; even the power to consider the rights and feelings of others
is wanting. Unlike poor Holcroft, Mrs. Mumpson had few misgivings in
regard to coming years. As she rocked unceasingly before the parlor
fire, she arranged everythi